


And Baby Makes Two

by Chash



Category: Arrested Development
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-18
Updated: 2008-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 07:40:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1639400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Bluth turns forty.  It's not actually as bad as he expected it to be.  (Gen)</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Baby Makes Two

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DrWorm

 

 

And Baby Makes Two

*

Michael Bluth never had good birthdays.

When he was younger, they had been overshadowed by a number of things--Christmas coming so soon after, various poorly timed criminal charges, GOB's consuming obsession with the Star Wars Christmas Special in 1978, which took over all other parts of life--and by the time he'd grown up, he realized his family was just terrible. Lindsay, of course, shared his birthday and had extravagant parties, but she had stopped allowing Michael to be involved with them shortly after they entered junior high, claiming he wasn't popular enough to attend.

So Michael didn't have big hopes for forty. After all, the Bluths were creatures of habit; they hadn't done anything for him for the last twenty years, and showed no signs of starting anytime soon. And Lindsay, of course, had stopped mentioning their birthday entirely once they hit thirty and she started lying about her age.

He didn't even expect his usual birthday celebration, a meal out with his son, because George Michael was busy with college applications. Of course, he had offered to take a night off from essays and transcripts for dinner, but Michael had refused him with ease.

"Your future is more important than my birthday," he had told George Michael.

"Yeah, I know, but I'm actually kind of ahead on this and running out of things to do. A lot of it's online now and it's all the same stuff and so there's--"

"No, my mind's made up. You have important things to do."

So Michael was looking forward to an evening alone, doing nothing exciting, turning forty quietly and in peace.

Of course, he'd forgotten about Lindsay.

It was two weeks before his birthday when she first brought it up.

"So," she said, "about the party."

"Party? What party?"

"Our birthday party!"

"Excuse me?"

"This is a big deal, Michael! We're turning forty!"

"Actually, you already turned forty. We're not really twins."

"Family is more than blood! There's a bond between us."

"Family might be, but I'm pretty sure birthdays aren't."

"I can't be forty yet. My life didn't truly begin until I was a Bluth, Michael."

"That's sad. And if it's true, you're actually not forty yet."

Lindsay considered this. "Really?"

"Yes. But it's not true. You're forty-two and I'm not having a birthday party."

"You know who else didn't have a party, Michael? Abraham Scrooge."

"Not his name," Michael pointed out. "Also, he had nothing to do with birthday parties. He hated Christmas."

"Well, either way. I think you're making a mistake."

"I have no problem with that."

***

Foolishly, Michael believed that was the end of it.

And when his mother called him to the penthouse on the 14th, he _was_ suspicious. But this was the natural suspicion of a man who knew his mother was always up to something, not the suspicion of a son who was in any way prepared for a surprise party.

"Honestly," he said, "what surprises me most is that you're all here."

"Family love Michael!" said GOB. "Didn't you see the sign?"

"Yes. I'm also surprised you kept it."

"I wanted to set it on fire, but apparently that's not legal in this area," sniffed Lucille.

"Of course you did. Well, I appreciate the thought."

He did not.

***

He hadn't expected to see much of George Michael at the party. He didn't think his son would be blowing him off, of course, but Maeby was home from college and he knew his son would be interested in catching up with his cousin. It seemed a little pathetic anyway, that he was more comfortable hanging out with his son at parties than his brothers and sister. Although he thought anyone who had met his brothers and sister would understand this.

But when he escaped from the festivities--if they could really be called that, given last he saw Buster and his mother were having some kind of lover's spat and GOB had doused Lindsay in lighter fluid--to the porch, he hadn't expected George Michael to follow him.

"George Michael, what you doing out here?"

George Michael looked surprised. "It's your birthday."

"Only technically. This is really more about your Aunt Lindsay. And it's not really her birthday."

"Yeah, but...I still want to celebrate. Just because we didn't go out to dinner doesn't mean I'm going to not do anything. I mean, you're my dad."

"I don't want to keep you from the party," Michael hedged.

George Michael glanced back in. "Uh, I'd really rather be out here. It's getting kind of--well, you know. It's a Bluth family party. It's not really--us. Besides, it's not like I don't see them all the time anyway."

"Well, I'm glad you're here," said Michael. "It is a little crazy in there, huh."

"No, no, it's fine. Gangee's always like that."

"That's what alcoholism does to people. I want you to take that lesson with you to college."

"Yeah, I think I'm gonna be okay. I've got a lot of negative examples."

"You were always a lot better at learning than the rest of the family."

Michael didn't actually know what he'd do what he'd do when George Michael left for college. He'd never been without him before; even when he was away from the rest of the family, he had his son.

"Oh, um," said George Michael, looking away, "I forgot your present. It's inside. Aunt Lindsay and Uncle GOB were in front of it and I didn't really want to get between that."

"Oh, George Michael, you know you didn't have to..."

"I know," said George Michael, unexpectedly. Most years, he would argue that point, saying Michael was his father and he had to get him a present, he would talk about obligations. "I know that," he repeated. "I like getting you presents. It's your birthday. It should be a big deal."

"Well, I don't think anyone can deny that this is a big deal," said Michael, looking in. Franklin had come out to sing.

"You know," said George Michael, carefully, "I bet they wouldn't notice if we left."

"Left?"

"To get dinner, or something. I'm not really going to get any work done tonight anyway, so we might as well celebrate right, right?"

"You aren't going to miss the chance to catch up with your cousin while she's home?" asked Michael. He and George Michael had never extensively discussed whatever may or may not have been going on between George Michael and Maeby, but the two were close, and Michael preferred leaving it at that.

"Oh, no," said George Michael, "we'll, uh, see her at Christmas, you know?"

(He did not mention that Maeby, disinclined to go to college, had been living in the attic of the model home, like her grandfather before her.)

"If you're sure," said Michael, "then yes, I'd love to have dinner with you."

George Michael beamed.

"Do you think you can climb down here?" asked Michael, peering over the balcony. "Because I'm not sure we should risk going back in there. Gangee has her rape horn out."

George Michael looked a little nervous, but willing. "I guess if I fall, the police are going to show up soon anyway, right?"

"Well, they are an important part of every Bluth family function," Michael agreed. "Do you want to go first, or should I?"

"You go, no one cares if I leave," said George Michael. "I might even be able to make it out through the door."

"I'm not sure you should risk it," said Michael. "But I'll see you at the bottom."

It was, Michael reflected, shimmying down the wall from his mother's penthouse, probably one of his best birthdays. More than enough of his family, and dinner with his son.

And, with any luck, he'd be gone before the cops--hot or otherwise--arrived.

 


End file.
